


I feel it coming

by Trashland (Destieltrashland)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9836150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destieltrashland/pseuds/Trashland
Summary: When Dean woke up he was warm and comfortable. Sunlight streamed across his eyelids, turning them pink and making him squint. He groaned softly, stretching his limbs and noticing that for once, he wasn’t sore all over. Not even that twinge in his back that usually greeted him in the morning was there. He yawned, loud and boisterous, as he rubbed his hands down his face and finally let his eyes open.He blinked. The walls around him were painted a summery green, bright thanks to a window across the room covered by a set of sheer white curtains. The bedframe was dark wood and rustic. It matched the nightstand and a dresser under the window. The sheets were deep green and soft, the comforter a coordinating tan.He sat up.This was not his room.





	

When Dean woke up he was warm and comfortable. Sunlight streamed across his eyelids, turning them pink and making him squint. He groaned softly, stretching his limbs and noticing that for once, he wasn’t sore all over. Not even that twinge in his back that usually greeted him in the morning was there. He yawned, loud and boisterous, as he rubbed his hands down his face and finally let his eyes open. 

He blinked. The walls around him were painted a summery green, bright thanks to a window across the room covered by a set of sheer white curtains. The bedframe was dark wood and rustic. It matched the nightstand and a dresser under the window. The sheets were deep green and soft, the comforter a coordinating tan. 

He sat up. 

This was not his room. 

His head swiveled, taking in the details of the place. He pulled open the drawer on the closest nightstand. Inside it were a few skin mags, a half full bottle of lube, a small leather pouch that turned out to be a gun cleaning kit, and a familiar leather bound journal. His thumb skirted over his father’s initials as he held the worn book to his chest. He climbed out of the bed gingerly, trying not to make noise. The hardwood floor gleamed softly in the sunlight as he padded across the room and looked out the window. 

He was on the second floor, that much was obvious. The outside of the building resembled a cabin with roughhewn logs stacked to make the walls. The driveway out front was white gravel and Baby was parked in the shade of a tree. The property was wooded and he couldn’t see another house or road anywhere. 

He tried to open the window and it slid smoothly. Outside the air was warm and mild. Birds chirped softly in the distance; He couldn’t hear anything else, no traffic or people. He stuck his head out but there was no ledge or overhang, no porch roof to climb onto. The drop from the second floor probably wouldn’t kill him but he might break something. 

He sighed and turned back to the room. 

He was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in flannel pajama pants. He rifled through the dresser and pulled on a pair of worn jeans, in his size, and a faded Metallica tee, as well as a pair of socks. The other three drawers contained a few pairs of khakis and jeans, in a size smaller than his, and more folded t-shirts. He pulled out a familiar yellow one and scowled at it. It had a bee on the front and Dean could remember buying it at Goodwill for Cas after the whole naked-covered-in-bees incident. 

What was Cas’ shirt doing here?

He opened a door that turned out to be a closet and found a pair of boots that fit him. They looked like a pair he had years ago, his favorite pair actually, that had been destroyed during a werewolf hunt. 

That thought knocked him on his ass, literally, and he tumbled out of his crouch and into a sitting position. 

The case!

He and Sam had been hunting a werewolf in bumfuck Iowa. They’d been ambushed inside an old barn – turned out the one werewolf was actually three – and he remembered being slammed into a wall. Sam was slashing with his blade and calling Cas’ name but Dean lost consciousness before the angel appeared. 

He swallowed hard as his stomach filled with dread. 

What the hell happened and where was he? Where was Sam? 

“Cas, buddy, if you can hear me, I need your help.” He prayed out loud. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his voice. He waited, his ears straining to hear the flap of wings. Nothing. 

He pulled the boots on and laced them. 

The closet was well organized. Shoes fit neatly into a small shelf; two pairs of sneakers, a pair of dress shoes, and a few pairs of work boots. Several plaid shirts were hanging on one of the racks – Dean grabbed a blue one and slipped it on – along with a row of button ups in various colors and some slacks, folded over their wooden hangers.

On one shelf he found a small gun lockbox and when he tried his mom’s birthday, the combination lock popped open. Inside was a 9mm handgun and a box of bullets. He checked the weapon, noting that it was clean and well cared for, before loading it and tucking it in the back of his waistband. There was a box of random items, knick knacks and keepsake things. Some of them he remembered from when he was a kid – a coffee mug from Las Vegas that his dad had bought at a motel front desk and a keychain from a carnival he and Sam had stopped at once before he left for college.

His heart clenched at the memory but he pushed the feelings down and trudged on. This whole situation was surreal but he couldn’t get caught up in it – he needed to get moving. 

The other door in the room opened to a bathroom and he paused to look at himself in the mirror. As he suspected, he had no cuts or bruises anywhere that he could see. His face was free of bags under his eyes or dark circles; he didn’t even have a five o’clock shadow. 

He kept one hand on the gun as he pushed the door open. 

The house was quiet. He inched down the hall, stopping once to toe open a door and peer in at another empty bedroom. 

He made his way down the stairs. The first floor had been left without drywall; the rough logs sanded and varnished. The stairs ended in the living room. The area was large with a white rock fireplace and a big screen TV above the mantle. Leather furniture and several tall bookshelves finished the space. 

It was homey and for a moment Dean could admit he liked the look of it. He could picture curling up in one of the leather recliners with a book or stretching out across the couch to watch a movie. He shook off the thoughts. 

As he crossed the room, eyes and ears alert, he heard the soft shuffle of socked feet. He turned toward an open doorway and saw the most shocking thing yet. 

Cas stood in the doorway. His hair was mussed, his face somewhere between awake and asleep. He wore a bathrobe, tied at the waist, and striped socks. In his hands was a mug of what smelled like coffee. 

“Good morning, Dean.” He said. His face broke into a yawn, his nose and eyes scrunching closed. 

Dean watched, mouth agape. 

“Cas?” he said without thinking. 

The only time he’d ever seen Cas without his suit and tie was those few months when he was human. Even then, he’d never looked like this. Human Cas was tired and uncomfortable in his skin. He had a perpetual scowl and nothing short of a cheeseburger had been able to wipe it away. 

This Cas settled onto one of the couches lazily and sipped at the mug, his eyes roaming over Dean. A small smile ticked up the edges of his mouth. Dean had seen that smile before – it was one Cas reserved just for him – but something about it was off, wrong somehow. 

Dean’s brow wrinkled. “What’s going on?” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him and tilted his head to one side. The gesture was so eerily similar to the real Castiel that it made Dean doubt himself for a moment. 

“It’s still early.” Cas said. His voice was the same; gravelly and deep in a way that sent tingles up Dean’s spine.

Dean scanned the room again. No weapons as far as he could tell. Nothing outwardly supernatural lying around. He walked around the room slowly, keeping his eyes on the man on the couch. For his part, the fake Castiel just sipped his coffee and stared blandly at the TV screen. A rerun of the old Adam West batman series was playing, though he hadn’t seen Cas turn the thing on. Dean recognized the episode as one of his favorites. 

He ducked into the kitchen, doing a check for witchcraft or spell related items but finding nothing. The fridge was stocked with his favorite beer and a pie sat on the counter. It looked homemade and Dean could see sugar crystals sprinkled over the lattice work crust. His mouth watered but he ignored it. 

“Cas.” He said again, sending the prayer out into the universe with all of his might. “Something really weird is going on. I need you, man.” 

Through the kitchen windows he could see a small lake with a dock and a tiny fishing boat tied to it. It reminded him of a place they’d gone as kids. The old cabin had belonged to a hunter and John had stashed the boys there for a few days while he tracked down a rugaru. Dean had loved that dock and had spent hours laying on it with his feet dangling in the water. 

He jumped when strong hands wrapped around his waist. The touch wasn’t aggressive or forceful, just a warm squeeze. Lips pressed against the back of his neck causing him to shiver. Dean spun and came face to face with Castiel. His blue eyes were laced with concern. 

“Is everything ok, Dean?” he said. His eyes trailed down to Dean’s mouth and for a moment, he thought he might kiss him. 

Dean pulled away, his heart pounding. “No. No it’s not.” He said. He took two steps back until he bumped into the opposite counter. 

The robe had slipped open some and Dean could see a sliver of Cas’ neck and chest. The tan skin he normally only saw when Cas was injured looked so different like this. Cas was soft and warm, like something out of Dean’s fantasies, and for a moment he could imagine wrapping him up in his arms. 

“Who are you?” 

Cas tilted his head again. “I am Castiel. An angel of the lord and your best friend.” 

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re not him. I know him! This –“ he paused as he searched for the words, “this isn’t him. He wouldn’t – he doesn’t –“ He couldn’t finish the thought. 

He knew the feelings were there, had been aware of them for some time now, but Cas was Cas. He was an angel, former, fallen, and resurrected but an angel still. Dean was just Dean. 

They were family, brothers in arms, and sure, they’d each said I love you at least once but they had always been on the verge of dying, at the edge of catastrophe. Cas didn’t mean it that way – he couldn’t. 

Could this be a spell? Or maybe a Djinn? He hadn’t told Sam but the last time he’d been captured by one his dreams had looked similar to this. Although that time his mom had been there and he and Cas were wearing matching rings. 

Cas reached out to him. Dean shook his head. “I need a phone.” He said. He didn’t know what this creature wanted from him but so far, it hadn’t been hostile. 

Cas motioned with his outstretched hand and when Dean glanced over he saw a cellphone lying on the counter. He picked it up, still keeping his eyes on Cas, and dialed Sam’s number. 

The phone rang and eventually Sam’s voice came through the speaker. “You’ve reached Sam, leave a message.”

Dean sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sam. I need your help. Tell Cas to put his ears on and come find me.”

In the room with him, Cas opened a cabinet and took out two plates. They were off white and chipped at the edges; they reminded Dean of Ellen and of the roadhouse. Cas cut the pie with a knife and slid a slice onto each plate. Dean could see large chunks of apple and slightly gooey filling between the flaky crusts. 

“Let’s sit outside.” Cas said. Without waiting for a response he turned, plates in hand, and headed out the backdoor. 

Dean hadn’t noticed it before and he kicked himself for not paying enough attention. Through the window he saw Cas take a seat at a small wooden patio table. He hadn’t seen the table earlier either. 

Dean pocketed the cell phone and patted the gun to make sure it was still at his waist before heading outside. If Cas wasn’t listening and Sam wasn’t picking up his calls, he would have to figure this out himself. 

The table was round and just big enough for the two of them. When he sat, his knee bumped against Cas’ and Dean pulled back. Cas motioned to the pie but Dean didn’t dare eat it. 

“What are you?” Dean asked. “Why did you bring me here?”

Cas took a bite of the pie. The tines of his fork pressed down on his bottom lip leaving the shine of sticky sweetness behind, and Dean sucked in a shallow breath when his tongue traced their path. 

“I’m an angel. I didn’t bring you here. We live here, don’t you remember?” 

Dean furrowed his brow. He couldn’t understand the point of this. What did this creature want? 

Internally, he prayed for Cas again. 

“No. I don’t remember. This isn’t my house – I don’t have a house.” He said. 

The structure sat behind them. He could see the bedroom window he’d left open, the tail of a white curtain billowing out. Next to it were two more windows. He stared at them for a moment because he’d only seen one more room when he’d checked the hallway. 

“You really should try the pie, Dean.” Cas said. The wind ruffled his hair and the sun sparkled in his eyes. Dean swallowed hard again. 

Maybe it was trying to poison him? But why the ruse with the house and all the little memories. Why mock the things he held dear? 

He pushed the plate away from him, suddenly angry. “No. Now you listen here you son of a bitch. I don’t know what’s going on or why you brought me here but I’m tired of it!” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

The question was simple and direct. Dean was taken aback by it. 

“Yes.” He said. 

Castiel vanished. 

Dean blinked feeling even more confused. 

“Cas! Get your feathery ass down here! What the hell is going on?” he shouted. His voice echoed in the trees and a few birds flew out of one of them, disturbed by the noise. 

He groaned and let his head drop into his hands. A moment later he heard the chair next to his move and his head shot up. 

Cas was sitting across from him. His trench coat was spotless, his suit was disheveled and his tie hung backwards. Dean’s heart swelled with relief. 

“Cas? Buddy, is that you?”

Cas smiled, the soft one just for Dean and Dean felt the familiar bittersweet ache in his chest. “Hello Dean.” 

“Hey Cas.” He said. His whole being could feel the difference. This was him, the real deal, and Dean couldn’t be happier. “Man, something fucked up is going on and I don’t know what. I woke up in this house with a bunch of stuff I recognized and something pretending to be you!” 

Cas nodded knowingly. 

“Yes, Dean. I have a lot to explain. First though, can you close your eyes for me?” 

Dean did, not even questioning the request. 

“Ok, you may open them.” 

He was back in the bunker. Gray green cement walls surrounded him and his memory foam mattress sank just the right amount underneath him. He felt under his pillow and the crumpled photo of his mom was there – right where it was supposed to be. 

“Damn, Cas. You’ve gotten better at that. I don’t feel like I’m gonna hurl or anything.” He joked. Cas smiled at him again and Dean soaked it up. 

Cas sat at the foot of the bed, leaving several inches between them. He held his hands uncomfortably in his lap. 

“Dean, something has happened. Please let me explain before you jump to conclusions or get angry.” 

Dean felt his jaw twitch at that. He never liked a conversation that started with ‘don’t get angry’ because it usually meant he was about to hear something that would piss him off. 

“Ok.” He said, only halfway meaning it. 

Cas dipped his head in acknowledgment. 

“Do you remember the hunt you and Sam were on, with the werewolves in the barn?”

Dean nodded. “Fucker slammed me into a wall and I passed out.” 

Cas eyes were sad suddenly and he squeezed his own fingers. “You didn’t just pass out, Dean. You died.” 

Dean stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Your neck was broken and you had a bleed in your brain. I didn’t get there in time to stop it. You were dead before you even hit the floor.” 

“Then what-“ Dean said, motioning around him. He had seen his heaven before and it definitely didn’t include the bunker. 

“I created this for you because I thought it would calm you.”

“So I’m dead.”

“Yes.”

“And this is heaven.”

“Yes.”

“Then what the hell was that before? I thought heaven was just reliving good memories over and over again. Where’s Sam?”

Cas turned his body, bending one knee to face Dean more fully. “That was someone else’s idea.” He sighed. “Since God left, the reigns have loosened some and certain souls have been given the ability to create the environment they exist in. Your soul was stubborn and refused to accept your death. You were restless so others stepped in and tried to create a space for you using bits of your memories and thoughts and piecing in the rest.” 

Dean felt his cheeks heat up and he looked away. “Did you see it?” 

Cas’ hand was warm on his knee and it squeezed softly. “I did.” 

Dean let out a heavy sigh, an explanation of the tip of his tongue. 

“You don’t need to say anything, Dean. I know how you feel about me. I always have. I also know what your life was and how much you struggled. It wouldn’t have worked then. We already put each other at risk just being family.” 

Dean looked up and Cas was watching him, his eyes calm and considering. Dean’s mind was racing and he didn’t know what else to say. He placed his hand on top of Cas’, lacing their fingers together even as his heart banged against his ribs. Cas smiled at him again. 

“Sam is fine. I convinced him not to come after you. Billie meant what she said – there is no coming back from this. Not this time.” Cas said. “He fought me for quite a while, even threatened me at one point but eventually he wore himself out. Now, he’s thinking about taking on a less active role. He doesn’t want to hunt alone; he says he’s too old for it.” 

Dean laughed. A small part of him wanted to argue, to fight, but a larger part felt a sense of relief. He was tired down to his bones. As long as Sam was safe, maybe he could rest. 

“I will keep him safe for as long as I can.” Cas said, displaying his eerie talent for predicting Dean’s thoughts. His words were solemn and felt like a vow. Dean nodded. 

“And when-“ he cleared his throat, unable to even say the words.

“Yes, Dean. You will be together, if that’s what you still want.” 

He nodded. He and Sam had spent their entire lives entwined with one another. He couldn’t imagine not knowing him in his afterlife as well. 

“They tried to give you a fake Sam, the first time.” Cas said. His mouth twisted into a small smirk. “You knew immediately and tried to kill it before he even spoke to you.” 

Dean laughed again and shook his head. “I wiped that kid’s ass when he was little. I know him better than he knows himself.” 

Cas’ face was full of fondness as he chuckled and nodded. 

“What about you? Will you come visit me? Us?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

Dean watched his face closely, looking for any sign of hesitance, but there was none. “Yeah, Cas. Of course.”

They sat that way for a moment. Dean stroked his thumb along the thin skin of Cas’ wrist. The action sent small tingles up into his fingertips. 

“Why didn’t they send you originally?” 

“We’re not really supposed to interfere with the souls, Dean.” Cas said. His voice was lower now, Dean noticed, “You are a very special case. They will have to make an exception.” 

\------

Dean laid on his back, feeling the warmth of the sun drenched wood soak though his shirt. The water was warm around his ankles but cooler where it tickled his toes; his forearm lay across his eyes, shielding them from the sun. In the distance he could hear Bob Seger crooning about his night moves. With a thought, he turned up the volume, and grinning, he began to sing along. 

As the song wound down he heard the flap of wings and waved the hand not covering his face. 

“Hello Dean.” Cas said.

He stretched out alongside him, the dock wide enough for two people now, and took his hand. 

“Hey Cas.” Dean said, uncovering his eyes and blinking. He turned onto his side and pressed a soft kiss to Cas’ stubbled cheek. “How’s business?” 

“Everything is fine, Dean.” Cas said, fond exasperation in his tone. 

One of the first rules they had been given was that Cas wasn’t allowed to tell Dean anything about earth or about Sam. Dean still liked to ask though, to test his limits. Deep down, he knew Cas would keep his word and he was comforted by that. 

“Can you stay long?” he asked. He rolled onto his stomach and leaned over Cas’ body. His suit was gone, exchanged for a faded t-shirt of Dean’s and worn jeans. Dean hadn’t asked him to do it but Cas had figured out how much Dean liked the look of him in his clothes, the little possessive thrill it gave him. 

“I can stay a while.” Cas said. He brushed a hand across Dean’s forehead and down his cheek. Dean nuzzled his palm. 

Things were so much easier here. He felt relaxed in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling when he was alive. It had taken time (how much time he didn’t know as there was no real sense of time here) but eventually all of his walls had fallen away. All of the anger and resentment, the built up shame and expectations were gone. It was just him here, and Cas, and eventually Sam. He could be himself – without all the machismo and sacrifice. That was a weight off of his shoulders. 

Cas’ hand cupped the back of his neck and pulled him forward, pressing their chests together before capturing his mouth. He tasted sweet and his tongue was warm against Dean’s. Dean groaned into the kiss. His fingers gripped the fabric of Cas’ shirt for a moment before it was gone, along with his own, and they lay skin to skin. Dean could feel the scratch of Cas’ chest hair and he smirked as he ran his fingers through it, thumbing over a nipple. Cas groaned his name and arched against him. 

The bed under them was a welcome change from the hard boards of the dock. Sunlight streamed over their naked skin and the breeze caressed Dean’s shoulders. He captured Cas’ mouth once more, one hand gripping his hip as he rocked against him. Cas groaned again, his eyes fluttering shut and his head tipping back. Dean sucked kisses down his throat, chasing the salt taste of him. 

“Feel so good, Cas.” He said, his voice barely a whisper. 

Cas’ hands scrabbled at his lower back, cupped his ass and pulled him close, grinding their hips together. His cock was hard and velvety soft sliding perfectly in the crease of Dean’s hip and thigh. 

“You are beautiful, Dean. Always. Always.” Cas said. He was watching him, blue eyes shining. Dean felt the praise wash over him and redoubled his efforts, slipping a hand between them. 

He gripped them both tightly in one fist and set up a rhythm even as he kissed down Cas’ chest, sucking marks into his collarbones. He wasn’t sure if Cas kept them when he left, wasn’t sure if he could, but he liked the idea anyway. He’d brought back Cas’ handprint long ago, at the beginning when the turn in their relationship really started to take shape. It was a nice reminder when Cas was gone, a little piece of him to hold onto. He hoped the bruises, or the memories of them, did the same thing for his angel. 

His hand was slick, the smooth glide of it almost too much for him. Cas bucked underneath him, his back arching and body rolling to meet Dean’s strokes. He panted hotly and Dean couldn’t help but watch his face. 

“Come on, angel.” He said. 

Cas’ features tightened, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth held in an O as he came. His release was hot and sticky on Dean’s fingers. Dean grunted as his hand continued to move and eventually, he followed Cas over the edge. 

They were on a thick blanket now, the water lapping at the sides of the boat. The curve of the hull forced their bodies together, but neither one minded. Dean sighed, lazily tracing patterns over Cas’ stomach with his fingertips. 

Above them the stars were bright and twinkling. Dean didn’t remember all of the constellations so he made them up. He had made one for Cas in the shape of a pair of wings. For Jo a pocketknife, Bobby a trucker hat, Ellen, Ash, Kevin, Charlie, and of course, Sam – they all had one. 

“I love you.” He said as he pressed a kiss to Cas’ shoulder. 

Cas hummed, leaning over to tuck his face into Dean’s hair. “I love you too.” He said.

**Author's Note:**

> On Tumblr at [DestielTrashland](http://destieltrashland.tumblr.com)


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